


Know Me

by espressopulse



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: FratWolves, Greybeard (The Order), M/M, Midnight (The Order), Silverback (The Order), Timber (The Order), Tundra (The Order), Werewolves, we'll see how this goes, writing on the fly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressopulse/pseuds/espressopulse
Summary: The Knight and the Champion are both separate... and not.
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is Un-Beta'd and I'm trying my best for grammar and punctuation and consistency! ❤

Once, many many seasons ago, there were many voices to join his in the night. They had been his family. His home. His haven. The world of magick had bowed to their rule and justice had been swift and uncompromising, but fair. For many seasons he and his kind had metted out honorable and swift retribution upon the dark practitioners corrupting the world, and experience and Time had brought with them an evergrowing awareness in all of the Pack.

At first they were dispatched at the hand of a noble and just Mage. They learned and grew into a Force in their own right, and when that Sainted Mage of Good Magick fell to the inevitability of Fate, he gave them control of themselves, for he saw that his creation was good and righteous and imbued in them each the magick to go on where he could not.

And go on they did.

Until Midnight was the first felled by the greed ladened practitioners. Their Evil First Name was no longer remembered, lost to the wear of time, but he remembers the vile scent of their collective wickedness. Always the noblest was Midnight and he gave his life to the cause, protecting Silverback and preventing his death in a crucial moment that helped turn the tide of that battle. The Pack mourned but knew that Saint Christopher had given them all a Gift and that they would see Midnight rise again, bourne by a new Champion.

The war that had taken their creator took many of them. Those who lived sought new Champions for their fallen brethren and eventually the war was won. The evil, decimated by the fury of the Knights of Saint Christopher, fractured and scattered to the wind and sea. The Pack split in kind, spreading out in hunting parties across the globe to eradicate the fleeing factions of dark practitioners.

Time. It erodes everything. Vitality. Memory. Strength of Will.

He had been sleeping for far too long, idly lending his Champions his power. Letting the Champion dictate the terms of their bond and their actions and their life. Letting the human control their actions while he gave only what was needed when it was called for.

Alpha's repeated betrayals had wounded his small Pack in ways he felt deeply but couldn't fully understand. He had even almost taken Silverback with him. Midnight had lost his mind to a level of insanity unknown to any of them. Greybeard, somehow, remained steady always the patient Hunter and a ferociously brave Warrior. Timber leaned on Greybeard's strength often to keep himself from following in Midnight's pawprints, always having been the Fiercest of them, but Timber's bloodlust was wearing at his control and had been for some time.

Looking now he could see the damage to all of them. They were choosing _**children**_ for Champions. None of the Knights were what they once were and the progress of human civilization had greatly changed the rules of the fight.

Time and languishing had done the rest.

He'd let himself languish, agonized by the turmoil that had beset his Pack. He knew now that the hunting parties should have been made bigger. He knew now that their Victory long ago had made them too confident in their ability to handle the Mages hellbent on wreaking their havoc and wallowing in their greed for power and control.

It would be a struggle now. He knew. His Champion was strong and stubborn. His Champion was steady and committed. His Champion held morals to his heart like a coat of arms and yielded them only for the love of his human Pack. Alpha's absence had left them leaderless, broken and wild, beset with the creeping ailment of destabilizing magicks, and it had been his Champion's choice to step up. To be the leader the Pack needed and unknowingly stave off a final death for all of them.

He had mourned his losses and mistakes enough. It was time he and his Champion truly communed and came to a new understanding of what it was to be a Knight.

Luckily, it seemed that Hamish Duke would be the sort of man to listen.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be SPOILERS for season 02 ahead aplenty. Ye be warned!

The ringing creak and slam of the doors to the reliquary and office of Vera Stone were loud. The hand in his held on so tightly that Hamish had a feeling his fingers might have fractured were he not a Werewolf. An exaggeration fitting of the fear pouring off her in waves and clogging his nose. 

"Vera," he murmured gently. "It's going to be alright. You have us. You have me."

Vera was quiet but her lower lip trembled just the tiniest bit before she licked at them, looked down as if to gather herself, and then glanced just briefly his way. "A handful of werewolves against a _legion_ of powerful practitioners. I'm sure you can see how I am not much comforted, Mr. Duke."

Hamish let her sarcasm flow past him. Vera Stone was a proud woman who coveted power as a means of protection from and control of the world around her. And now she was powerless. She was a good person who had climbed the ranks of a rotting Order of greedy people seeking to change it all for the better. Insidiously - subtly - she had begun to succeed. Mostly. The decaying worms of evil had been transmogrified into a fragile chrysalis from which she had hoped to bring forth a flourishing butterfly of good and benevolance.

And then Praxis had fallen into the mix like a stale tonic.

Praxis had been the forest fire they had wanted to be, ruining so much of Vera's carefully constructed planning it was any wonder that they had averted the Apocolypse Eruption at all. Hamish gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

A rich tang like metal and the snap of winter slowly began to fill the air of the reliquary, dominating the subtler smells of citrus, old books, iron in the sunlight and... woman. His nose was better than a dog's most days, but at that moment his olfactory sense was almost unbearable. Hamish sneezed, sniffed and rubbed a little at his nose. The tickle of alcohol teased his nostrils as soon as he lowered his hand and the thick, sweet scent of syrup buoyed it in his mind as the three fingers of very expensive bourbon sitting as of yet untouched in front of Vera on the coaster protecting her desk. It was distracting enough that it took him a long moment to notice that he was hearing several heartbeats beyond his own and Vera's. Acolytes in the Temple, cleaning as ordered. Each bearing a unique scent that began as biologically male or female and blossomed into more complex notes, like a very well mixed cocktail. And now he could recognize that Vera smelled of female and her own personal scent of lemons and limes and oranges flowering in the sweet summer sun... and absolute, abject terror. That cold snap and metal flavor in the air that had never been so clear before.

He was slowly being overwhelmed by his senses. It was true that the longer a Champion wore their pelt the more powerful their senses became, but Hamish's level of sensory intake hadn't changed even a little bit in several years. This sudden turn was unsettling and he urgently wished to return to the Den and the safety and comfort of his small Pack. To assure himself that they were dealing as well as could be expected with Lilith and Nicole and Alyssa and just.... everything. He still had ties to mend with Randall and Jack... Midnight might yet be a problem... there was just so much left to deal with.

His sense of duty and affection for Vera kept his feet planted. He remained steady at her side but inside his own mind his thoughts raced frantically. Why were his senses ramping up right then? Were his fellow Knights experiencing this too or was something happening to him specifically? Was this change any more of consequence than it had been as his senses had increased the first few years of his being a Champion?

Hamish was so distracted that he didn't notice when his grip began to tighten on Vera's hand. She tried to pull away but his arm was unmoved by her small tugs.

"Mr. _Duke_ ," she snapped red lips pouting as her brow furrowed, silken brown hair swaying with her movements. "You are _hurting_ me."

Her words broke him from his internal spiral of growing ... unease. He refused to call it panic.... and he let go of her hand as if burned.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." His voice was soft and gentle, his eyes wide and his hands upheld in a gentle gesture of no-harm. Hamish was, in that moment, as earnest as he actually felt, he hadn't meant to hurt her, but he glanced towards the door, drawn - _pulled_ to leave. Vera sat back in her chair, redrawing his attention. Vera Stone was a very smart woman and she studied him for barely a minute before she straightened, still rubbing at her hand where he had squeezed too hard.

"I want you to be sure that Jack Morton has destroyed the body of Alyssa Drake and buried her ashes in the forest ground. I can handle a few Acolytes. Go. Be certain."

It was no different than any other order the Grand Magus had given him before, her tone even and in control, but it brought tension to his neck and shoulders unlike anything he had experienced before and Tundra made his displeasure over being bossed about by a Mage very clear.

"Yes, Grand Magus," he said, hoping his voice was steady. He hesitated a moment. "Vera, are you sur-"

"Go, Mr. Duke."

"Yes, Grand Magus."

Hamish turned and left the reliquary through one of the side exits. Eventually it became obvious where he was being drawn, his instincts entirely predictable: back to the Den.

*****

Hamish stepped through the front door and into an air of solemnity and a feeling of division. The sitting room felt crowded. There had never been so many Champions in the room before in Hamish's time as a Knight. Add to that the addition of one member of the Order, he thought and stopped abruptly in the doorway near the base of the stairs when all eyes turned to him.

Jack stood with his back to the bar, watching the others in alternating glances. His mouth was drawn and his eyes were wary. He smelled of earth and petrichor and Alyssa's blood and ash and death. He also smelled of something that reminded Hamish of the taste of cold stone in the depth of winter. Which was alarming because he had never licked a cold boulder in the mountains in his life as a man or a Werewolf. The accompanying imagery was far more vivid than anything he'd ever received from Tundra before, but a shakey, sobby inhale caught his attention before he could examine the revelation too deeply.

Gabrielle sat shivering, huddled in one of Randall's hoodies and a pair of his joggers, on the beanbag by the window and the fireplace far to the right. She was barefoot, her hair hanging unstyled in still slightly wet strands and smelling heavily of Randall's body wash and 2-in-1 shampoo. It made Hamish's chest go tight and his lungs burn as his nostrils flared. Gabrielle stared at the floor, her tiny frame swimming in Randall's too big clothing, looking like she might be in shock, and all Hamish could feel towards her was discontent of some vague origin.

Randall crouched at Gabrielle's side, a comforting hand on the back of her shoulder, thumb curled over the top in a way that made Hamish grateful. Midnight was unpredictable and cunning in his own right and they didn't need a Werewolf brawl breaking out if they could avoid it. Randall stared at Hamish his face blank and uncertainty swimming in his chocolate brown eyes. Randall was rarely if ever quiet and yet now he said nothing. It made Hamish's stomach clench and swoop with anxiety.

On the far left sat Lillith, Nicole an uncertain presence at her side. As all people must learn, a person was not the sum of the group they belonged to. Nicole wasn't a bad person, but she had been complicit and willing without remorse to fuck with their memories. Then again so had Gabrielle and now Gabrielle was a Knight. Lillith herself sat cowering, as pulled into herself as she could be. It was no surprise that she had suffered a great deal of trauma while in that Other Place.

In short, they were a mess.

And he had no idea where to begin.

_But I do._

The voice was a low hum whispering in his ear, or coming from a distance. His eyes went wide as he felt his equilibrium tip and the last thing he remembered seeing was a look of startled panic on Randall's face as as the undergrad lurched to his feet reaching for and rushing towards Hamish with an exclamation of Hamish's name one his lips.

*****

_Hamish blinked up at the blue of the sky. Trees rustled in a soft breeze and the sun was warm, but the colors around him were... off. Paler somehow. And more leant into bluish hues. Almost as if everything was faded._

**_Welcome to the Collective Unconscious._ **

_Hamish pushed up onto his elbow - he was lying on a giant stone slab table like some kind of medieval sacrifice - and beside him only a few yards away sat a massive white-grey wolf with eyes the blue of a crystal pale sapphire. All white but for a peppering of obsidian hairs through the fur of his back over his shoulders and just a hint of cinnamon dusting that went from the top of his head to the tip of his tail but left most of his fur pure as new fallen snow, the wolf looked primordial and more awe-inspiring than his more mortal cousins._

_"Tundra," Hamish stated calmly in greeting and swung his legs off the slab. Tundra remained seated and Hamish assumed there was no urgency so he stayed seated on the edge of the slab. "How-"_

**_This is not a state I can hold for long, so listen to me._ **

_"O-kay..." Hamish agreed with a little hesitation. The Collective Unconscious was supposed to be just a theory - a potential explanation as to why there were certain constants all across the world. Jack had mentioned this before when he had bourne two hides: Midnight and Silverback both warring inside of him and draining him of his life force. Hamish would have to do some reading... if he ever woke up. He was sure he hadn't been dying and Tundra had said he couldn't "hold" this "state" for long. So he **was** probably going to wake up._

**_Because of you, we are now the leader of this Pack. I had not anticipated staying long with you, Hamish Duke, but you have proven yourself a very worthy Champion._ **

_Tundra licked his lips and shook himself, half standing up, his neck ruff rocking across his muscular shoulders and blunt claws digging into the grassy earth, before sitting back down. He was massive, formidable and looked almost entirely wolf without any of the 'were'. Hamish found the creature utterly breathtaking (hoping that that wasn't some twisted form of vanity talking) and completely terrifying in an objective manner. The grass swayed behind the massive canine and the forest backdrop only leant to the feeling of surrealism, light dappling and leaves rustling. Tundra's mouth remained closed as he stared with intent into Hamish's face even as he began speaking again._

**_As leader of this Pack we are now responsible for the delegation and care of our Packmates._ **

_"I'm trying," Hamish began - and hadn't Tundra just praised his worthiness? Although worthiness as a Knight did not necessarily equate to worthiness as a Pack Alpha - but a silent snarl that wrinkled Tundra's muzzle and bared just the tips of his very impressive fangs made Hamish's very human teeth click as he snapped his mouth shut and Hamish held his peace and listened._

**_And given the circumstances and my own negligence you have still managed to keep all who have come after you alive. Well done, Hamish Duke. Now we will take care of them together. All of them. Do you truly give your life for the cause?_ **

_"I took the Oath, Tundra. What do you mean a- aAH-"_

*****

Hamish woke sitting bolt upright and screaming, arms braced before him as if shielding for impact. The the cry of alarm died almost instantly, his chest heaving as he panted for breath and dropped his hands to his blanket covered lap. There was no massive wolf leaping at him and he was in his bedroom at the Den. A weight settled beside him on the edge of the mattress and Hamish turned wide blue eyes to Randall then squinted as his temple suddenly throbbed.

He had a headache now. _Damn it._

"Thank god," Randall murmured looking beyond relieved and held up two fingers right under Hamish's nose. "How many fingers am I holding up, Hammy baby?"

"No, Randall." Hamish grumbled over yet another terrible play on his name and looked away, rubbing at his face with both hands. "And two. Where are the others?"

"In separate... parts of downstairs? Hamish, are you alright? It looked like you had a _seizure_... or something? I don't know. You dropped like a ton of bricks. I caught you before you hit your head... by the way. Not that it was really saving you cuuuz... Werewolf."

Randall's big brown eyes were scared behind their veil of dark lashes and attempted levity. Warmth suffused Hamish's entire body under that concerned gaze and he reached out without thinking too much about the urge to do so. He settled his hands at the sides of Randall's neck his long fingers cupping the back of Randall's skull and his thumbs settling in front of Randall's delicate ears, pulling him in. Randall's hands were unsteady as they grasped Hamish's forearms and slid to grip his wrists. His grip was desperately tight and Hamish frowned just a little. Their foreheads touched and Randall let out a shaky sigh his eyes closing and his body letting go of some of his tension.

"You scared _the fuck_ out of me. I thought someone had done something to you and you'd barely made it back to us before keeling over. Not cool, Hammich. If you die, that puts me in charge..."

"And nobody wants that," Hamish murmured gently, the tease in his voice mellow and obvious. He felt... fantastic. Even more powerful than usual.

" _Fuck no_... I mean, I'd be a _great_ leader... but then I couldn't just kill the bad magic, I'd have to _think_ about it first." Randall was grinning, clearly relieved.

Hamish smiled the little grin lopsided. "Tundra wanted to have a word with me. Apparently he was in some sort of funk, but now he's all in."

"Oh yeah?" Randall's eyes fluttered open and he slowly drew back. Just enough to assess Hamish's full expression, but his grip on Hamish's wrists kept them in contact, their noses almost touching. Hamish was immediately reminded of the feel of soft lips and the warmth in his belly as they had kissed at the Blade and Chalice to avoid being caught out by their Keepers. Even without that memory wreaking havoc on them, most people probably would have found the setting and their closeness unsettling and inapropriate. Even with that memory, Hamish did not. Randall was relaxed and Hamish was too, each enjoying the nearness and intimacy with the other.

"So what does that mean?" Randall asked after a few moments of quietly sharing air. His breath smelled like the breakfast burrito he and Hamish had both snagged that morning before parting ways into chaos and also rich greens and ginger. It appeared Randall hadn't stopped to actually eat either for the rest of the day though he had made time for a smoothie.

"I don't know, but I can feel him more now than I could before... and my senses are even stronger. You smell like Gabrielle and those green smoothies from that Tropical place and your breakfast burrito from this morning."

"You'd like them too if you'd just give them a chance! They're green but they're delicious!" But the playfully expressive defensive expression fell too quickly. "She's not taking things well. Like at all. Midnight's being a bit of a pill and not the happy kind."

Hamish sighed and finally fully leaned away gently pulling his hands free. Randall almost followed him before straightening up a look of worry in his big brown eyes. Hamish had to admit that the Knights tending towards lots of physical contact - hugs, leaning against each other wherever they could, arms over shoulders, playful tussles and his personal favorite Forehead to Forehead eye contact - was something he never wanted to give up. He felt more whole when Randall and Lilith and Jack were crowded close.

"Hamish, I... this whole thing... all of it... it's a fucking mess. And then you just fucking collapse out of no where-"

" _I know_. I know, Randall." Hamish sighed and pulled the other young man into a tight embrace, resting his chin on Randall's shoulder. Randall held him back just as tightly. "We're going to be okay. All of us. Tundra told me he knows what to do."

"Okay. Okay...." Randall murmured and buried his face into Hamish's neck. Hamish lifted his head and pressed his cheek against Randall's touseled curls, but glanced up as the partially opened bedroom door inched open wider and Jack Morton stepped cautiously onto the threshold.

"Jack?" Hamish asked lifting his head just enough for Randall to peek out and grin (Hamish just knew he was grinning) at Silverback's Champion.

"You okay?" Jack seemed hesitant, hovering in the doorway. He hadn't been a Knight long enough to become accustomed yet to, or perhaps to accept, the tactile nature of the beast. He still very much disliked being naked in front of his fellow Knights even, continuing to run off to strip for his Change.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hamish replied warmly even as Randall extended a hand and made grabby motions at the Sophomore.

"We'd be better if you joined us. Hamish can tell us both about his adventures with Tundra in Head Land."

"No, Randall," Hamish siged with exasperation at the same moment that Jack made a weird face.

"Sounds like some kind of weird place where everyone's getting a blowjob," he pointed out and tossed his newly dyed brown hair off his brow.

Randall's grin got bigger and Hamish just knew, once again, that Randall was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He didn't have to be able to see Randall's face. He knew Randall and he was in no way surprised when Randall suggestively stated, "Sounds like my kind of place."

Hamish rolled his eyes and Jack actually smiled a little, the whole exchange making Hamish feel much more content.

_Yes._

The voice was deep and gentle and brimming with affection. Hamish felt Tundra push at him a little, and it felt odd to open up without intending the Change. His eyes must have flashed mercury because Jack took a step back.

"No no," Hamish said firmly yet kindly and Jack instantly froze. "Everything is fine. Tundra just... wanted to share."

Jack fidgeted in the doorway and Hamish let his shoulders go loose and relaxed his back, taking Randall down onto the mattress with him as he eased back onto the pillows. Randall wriggled along until he was lounging comfortably along Hamish's side on top of the covers, tossing one leg casually over Hamish's thigh snuggling in like they did this all the time. They didn't... but Hamish was beginning to think they should. Hamish sighed, the breath one of contentment. Jack immediately relaxed and even edged unconsciously back into the room an inch or two.

_Human nature is not Wolf nature_ , Tundra whispered to him and with those words came a deeper understanding. They were both - wolf and man - and with that duality came a need for a certain amount of balance between the two different natures. Human judgments, human concerns and prejudices and phobias, had thoroughly robbed these wolves of something vital to their very well-being for a very long time. Beside him Greybeard's spirit fairly vibrated with eager happiness that was so very like his Champion's normal state of being. Hamish had never felt another Knight's spirit so keenly before, but once he had sensed Greybeard, the yearning from Silverback rang out like a mournful gong. Tundra was tightening his hold on the Pack Bonds, pulling them back together and mending the fraying of them Hamish realized and immediately knew that the knowledge came from this new rapport with his Knight.

Galvanized in his new understanding of their power base, Hamish extended a hand palm up, inviting Jack and Silverback to join them openly. "Jack, it'll be okay," Hamish said his voice low and coaxing. "We're Pack. There's no judgement here. Or at least there won't be any more."

Jack's body leaned into the room, the motion a predecessor to a step toward Hamish's indulgently large, positively plush looking king size bed. The moment shattered in the very next second, pulling Jack up short.

" _Out of the way_."

Gabrielle shoved past Jack with all the air of a woman on a mission. Her presence brought Randall up to half-sitting again as he made to either help or retreat, Hamish wasn't sure which. Gabrielle had Lilith by the wrist and dragged her without regard for how she weakly tried to dig in her heels and pull away. After pulling her from the demon realm, Lilith had gone from psychological mess to near mental flatline. Her human psyche must have been under constant assault over there, as Hamish had often worried. But now he could sense Timber's exhaustion, the Knight's Will burned to a wick nub keeping he and his Champion alive in such a foreign and hostile environment. Lillith was shoved at the bed by Gabrielle before Hamish could examine things more deeply and Hamish and Randall moved quickly as one to catch the almost catatonic young woman.

" _Midnight_ ," Hamish chided, but it was Gabrielle who tossed her drying hair off her shoulder and looked up at him as she prepared to climb onto the bed with them. "Gabrielle?"

"The mutt is insisting. _Uhg, alright_! **Midnight** is insisting that we'll all feel better this way. _Heal_ better." Gabrielle paused just a moment then put Lillith's legs on the bed too and climbed on herself. "I sent Nicole back to her dorm. _This_... is werewolf business. It took a little persuading, but she went."

"So... we're doing this?"

Hamish looked to Randall who had kicked off his shoes and pulled off his hoodie already, his hair a total mess now. He looked as eager as Greybeard Felt to Hamish's new perception. The hide and bearer were equally starved for the contact, and Hamish felt a pang that was echoed by a similar emotion from Tundra. Randall had even fisted a handful of the blankets ready to crawl in under the covers and it was then that Hamish realized Randall had manhandled Hamish out of his shoes, socks, suitcoat, tie, dress shirt, vest and dark denim jeans, leaving him in only his boxers beneath he sheets. It had been at least seven years since he'd felt the least bit body shy anyway.

"Get in," Hamish invited Randall warmly his tone even.

Randall didn't waste a heartbeat before he was scooting in along Hamish's side and murmuring, "Alright! Dog pile... erm _wolf_ pile," in the happiest most pleased tone he could probably ever muster. Hamish lifted his arm and Randall tucked right into his side, Hamish wrapping that arm around strong, slender shoulders.

"You smell good," Randall commented sounding almost dreamy as he buried his nose against Hamish's collarbone and Hamish chuckled a little.

"Thank you," he said even as he began helping Gabrielle and Lilith in under the covers on the other side of himself. Lilith was actually willingly moving herself in against Hamish's right side and when Randall took her hand at Hamish's solar plexus for a brief but encouraging squeeze, Lilith offered him a tremulous smile. Hamish could feel Timber, exhausted, faint, but strength reawakening in the presence of his Pack, and Hamish felt joy and relief course through him that found resonance in the presence of Greybeard, Midnight, Silverback, Timber and Tundra himself. Lilith would be alright. Timber would help her just as the Pack itself was helping her.

Gabrielle scooted in and curled herself around behind Lilith, spooning protectively at the damaged wolf's back and Hamish offered her a smile that Gabrielle tentatively returned before pointedly closing her eyes and putting her head down. Lilith was already asleep pulled under as if by magick. Pack Magick, Hamish thought with realization, relief and wonder. Randall snuggled in more against his side even though they were both still sitting up and both still watching Jack.

"You...really don't min-"

"Jack," Randall cut him off and leveled the younger man with a steady look. "Shut up and get in here."

"Come on, Jack," Hamish urged gently. "This is where we all belong."

"Get in here, Silverback. Some of us are trying to sleep." Gabrielle snapped without so much as opening her eyes, sounding prissy and bossy.

Hamish sighed unsure if it was Midnight or Gabrielle who had snapped those words. He was beginning to understand that Midnight and Gabrielle were probably made for each other. Tundra rumbled inside of him in displeasure of the lack of etiquette, something Hamish wholly agreed with, but didn't press for a confrontation over. Not just yet anyway. It would happen, soon, but right now this was what they all needed most. Pack.

"Alright. Okay. I'm coming," Jack yielded with a bit of his own more normal attitude and stripped out of his jean jacket in a hurry like he feared losing his nerve to join them if he dawdled now.

"You better not be... at least not without including some of us in the fun," Randall quipped and Hamish turned his head heavily to looked down at him. Randall looked up and smirked, nuzzling dopily at the warm skin of Hamish's chest while they waited, ignoring Jack's ' _ew gross_ ' in favor of meeting Hamish's blue-eyed stare. Hamish recognized the lack of heart in Jack's protest just as he recognized the flicker of heat in Randall's gaze.

Jack, dressed in boxers and a white t-shirt, clambered up onto the bed behind Randall at last and broke the stare. Together the three of them eased back and got comfortable. Randall's cheek settled over Hamish's heart, his curls just brushing Hamish's underjaw, filling Hamish's nose with the scent of Randall/Greybeard and home, and his thigh distractingly tossed over Hamish's again.

"This is cozy," Randall murmured and made room for Jack's arm over his waist by lifting his arm while Jack got comfortable as the big spoon. Everyone readjusted until they were settled. "I like being the beef in the middle of a pepper Jack and Ham sandwich."

Hamish huffed a surprised laugh that turned into an earnest chuckle. "Really?"

"You love me - **_it_**. You love my weirdness. I'm hilarious."

Randall was warm and loose and easy at his side. He'd gone all in from the moment Hamish had selected him and it warmed Hamish's heart (their heart - his, Tundra's they were one and the same weren't they?) to have Randall with him again. Things had been painful and rocky for a little while there and Hamish had begun to fear losing his Pack entirely. It had hurt immeasurably to find out Randall and Jack had wanted to slip him truth potion because they hadn't believed he would tell them anything they needed to know even if it meant trying to bring Lilith and Timber back thinking that he was Vera Stone's lapdog, of all things.

"I do. Heaven help me." Hamish placed a soft kiss in Randall's curls and Randall went still for just a moment before letting out a very happy sigh. Warm lips brushed over Hamish's pectoral and Hamish let out a low hum the noise answered by sighs and wordless murmurs from the others. Now wasn't the time to finally let himself explore this tentative thing blooming between he and Randall. Vera was... a good woman. Great in bed... but she would never truly understand what he was. She would always be apart from the Pack.

As he lay there in the dark - he must only have been unconscious and visiting the Collective Unconscious for a short while because it was just edging towards the middle of the night - Hamish relaxed and closed his eyes. He listened to the breathing of his wolves as they all drifted into deeper sleep one by one. It was peaceful, calm, for a long while and the minutes of blissful content ticked by.

The sensation started as a tingle at first, just a tickle along his veins not unlike the very beginning note of the Change. Then slowly it grew, until it was a warm hum, centered in his chest. He opened his eyes and watched in awe as a warm, little bonfire's blurry glow lit up in the physical heart of each of them. Magic brimmed and pulsed with each beat. A white-gold light lit up the lines of the demon tattoo on Lilith's face eradicating it for the foreign thing that it was and Tundra rumbled in satisfaction.

"Was that... you?" Hamish asked his voice a soft whisper. Randall shifted, sleepily nuzzled at Hamish's skin and settled again. Lilith and Gabrielle's glows were the brightest. Jack's and Randall's were softer. Randall's and Hamish's own glowing hearts were evenly matched in fact.

_Yes._

It was more an affirmative sensation than a word. Tundra was direct and didn't mince words. As a wolf, why would he? Sentience did not have to mean human behaviors, norms, logic... A philosophical question for another day. Hamish buried his nose in Randall's hair and closed his eyes inhaling deeply.

_Ours._

**That** concept held a depth of complexity that Hamish found absolutely intriguing. It said 'ours' and the statement blanketed all the wolves, but the 'ours' ran deeper. A handful of human faces blinked through his mind. There had been many bearers of Greybeard's pelt, just as was true of all of the Knights, but Hamish got the impression that not all of them were willing to indulge the wolves in their deeper lives.

"You and Greybeard, hm?"

_From the beginning._

"I see."

Tundra seemed to fade out after that, leaving Hamish to his thoughts. Hamish felt no pressure or coercion, only more knowledgable. And with knowledge, as they said, came power.

Hamish inhaled deeply one last time of the messy curls under his nose and then finally let his head fall back. He eased down, got comfortable and finally let sleep claim him.

TBC


End file.
